Beneath the painted sky the mother cries her tears. From the barren mountain, the wind blows away the dust from the bones of the earth. On arid plains a people lay as a forgotten memory, as ghost dance in among tumble weeds chanting songs as old as the trees that once grew on the mountains. A way of life is lost and civilization is gone. In the name of progress, simplicity of life was destroyed and all of the things were taken, leaving nothing but death and scars behind.